


Sickness

by darling_dontforgetme



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven, American Horror Story: Cult
Genre: F/F, Illness, Other, Poly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 17:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18695926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_dontforgetme/pseuds/darling_dontforgetme
Summary: Cordelia and Ally care for their wife when she is sick.





	Sickness

Illness has been creeping in on you for days now. At first, you had stubbornly tried to ignore it, brushing off the aches, coughing, and chills as if they were simply a figment of your imagination. If something wasn’t there, it couldn’t be real, right? Your wives had indulged your foolishness, encouraging rest and medication to ease your symptoms, though they didn’t force you when you declined their every offer, temporarily blissful in your own pretend ignorance. However, when Cordelia finds you asleep in your classroom at the end of a long day, small body curled up in one of the student desks and shaking with fever, the three of you have to give in and admit the truth. 

You squint as the pounding in your head takes on a heavier beat, and your legs feel like jello, but you manage to stumble along with Cordelia as she leads you up the stairs to the bedroom. Her soft hands deposit you into the safety of Ally’s open arms, and the brunette sways you gently, remarking about the heat emanating off of you. “You’re so warm, baby, like my own personal sunshine.

“She was sleeping in her classroom,” Cordelia mentions disapprovingly. She moves across the room to gather your pajamas from the dresser, and Ally clucks her tongue in a chiding manner as your rest you head on her shoulder, nuzzling into her neck and mumbling contentedly.

“Sweetheart,” Ally murmurs, gently scratching her fingers over your spine, “why didn’t you let us know you felt so terribly? We could have covered your classes so you could get some rest.”

You just shake your head drowsily, body slipping toward the floor in search of sleep, but Ally tugs you back up, and you grumble in protest. Everything is so hazy and your body hurts. Your stomach churns, and you push away from your wife when coughs begin forcing their way out of your lungs, eliciting pained whimpers as they burn up your throat.

Eyes wide with concern, Cordelia and Ally support you through the fit, giving you a minute to recover before they strip you bare, redressing you swiftly and escorting your shivering form to the bed. You cocoon yourself in the middle, pulling the covers over your head in an attempt to get warm, but you don’t think anything will be able to help relieve you of this chill.

The duvet moves, and you groan when your face is exposed, Cordelia coming into view with a thermometer. You open your mouth obediently without having to be asked, ready for her coddling to be over with so you can get some sleep.

“I’m sorry, I know,” the blonde promises. “We just need to see where your fever is at and get some medicine into you, then I’ll leave you alone.”

Ally’s fingers brush across your brow, and you close your eyes, reaching out for a hand and feeling one immediately wrap into your own. You wince when the thermometer beeps, the shrill sound like driving nails into your skull.

“101.6,” Cordelia says softly, the back of her hand fluttering across your forehead and cheeks just as Ally’s had done. “You must feel awful, darling.”

You stare up at them, bleary eyed as the blonde offers you a cure for your ailments. Swallowing the pills, you tug on the hand holding yours, pulling Ally down into the bed so you can curl up against her warm body and place your head on her chest. She soothes her hand through your sweaty hair, right arm sliding behind your head to grasp you tightly around the shoulders. 

Wrapping an arm over your middle, Cordelia settles in behind you, providing support for your aching back, but you still feel so horrible. Your anxiety grows and grows until tears prick in your eyes- for the pain, the exhaustion, the fuzzy headedness. You whine when the droplets start sliding down your cheeks, pressing harder into Ally, and Cordelia follows your shift.

“Oh, sweetheart, please don’t cry. You’re alright.” Ally’s chest vibrates against the side of your face when she speaks, and Cordelia begins to press soft kisses behind your ear, shushing you as well.

“I’m sc-scared,” you mewl out, and you know it’s just the fever talking, all of the soreness and sleepiness combining to overwhelm you, but it’s all just so much. Too much sensation, too much awfulness. Pitiful whimpering sounds fall from you as one of your hands fists tightly onto Ally’s shirt, the other intertwining with Delia’s and squeezing. Your already trembling body convulses with the strength of your sobs, and your bedmates tighten their hold on you.

“Hey, hey, shh,” Ally comforts, resting her palm on your cheek. “Try and calm down. You have nothing to be afraid of, love. We’re both right here. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

You gasp, hiccuping out short breaths as you fight to fill your lungs, but it is so hard to breathe. “I don’t feel well,” you moan, dragging out each syllable so the word is as big as your distress, as if they aren’t already aware of your suffering, as if they can make it go away like they are your own special kind of miracle medicine.

“We know, sweet girl.” Cordelia’s voice is tender, placating like a mother who has soothed many ill children in her time. “Close your eyes. The medicine should help soon, but it will be easier on you to sleep through most of this sickness.“ 

You whine loudly when she slips off the bed, but it’s only a minute before she returns with a cool rag, wiping it gently across your face and neck. Shutting your eyes, you focus on the soothing touch of their hands and force yourself to calm, knowing that crying is only exacerbating your misery. The ear pressed against Ally’s chest hones in on her heartbeat, strong and steady and a beacon of safety in this destruction that is your wellbeing.

Other than the occasional whispered comfort, things are quiet for a while as you sniffle and cough your way back to tranquility. Ally’s fingers continue to stroke through your hair, and you can feel Cordelia’s light breaths on the back of your neck. Despite your sickness, this moment, this being here with these two wonderful women who take the best care of you feels almost easy, almost perfect, almost like the most wonderful thing you have ever had in your entire life.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You are woken up in the middle of the night by two sets of hands worrying over you, and you open your eyes to find your wives peering down at you with alarm. The fogginess of just waking up combines with their fear and makes your own anxiety expand, crippling your brain and catching your breaths in your throat. You break out into a fit of coughs, and an increasing amount of black spots shimmer in your vision the longer you go without being able to breathe properly.

It feels like hours before you wheeze in your first full breath, grasping out in fear for a hand from both of your wives. Cold hands wrap into your sweaty palms, and you glance between them, seeing that their own stress over you has grown in the minutes it has taken you to regain control over the simple process of in and out you have known since birth. 

Ally is the first to reassure you, stroking a finger down your cheek. “It’s alright, sweet girl. We just need to check your temperature.”

The brunette eases the thermometer between your lips, brushing back your hair as you wait for it to finish its reading.

“M’gross,” you mumble, tears gathering you in your eyes at how disgusting you feel. Your body is wet and cold and painful, the back of your t-shirt soaked through with sweat. Your nose is stuffy, and it’s hard to breathe around the plastic in your mouth. 

Cordelia shushes you sweetly, pressing her lips to your forehead in a slow kiss. “Shh, love, it’s okay. Just lie still. Almost done.”

When the thermometer beeps, Cordelia slips it out of your mouth, first checking the numbers for herself before she holds it out for Ally to see. Both sets of brown eyes widen, and you don’t even bother asking about your temperature. You don’t care and just want to be left alone.

“Baby, we have to sit you up.” With that little warning from Cordelia, she hauls you up as Ally slides behind you for support. Your glossy eyes widen, and your heart begins beating furiously in your chest, the room spinning as your blood tries to even itself out after the sudden change in position. In your panic, your hands grapple to find a good grip on Ally’s thighs so you don’t fall over, but she secures her arms around you, and then Cordelia is shoving more medicine at you, directing you to sip and swallow when she holds a glass of water to your lips. You do so in a haze, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, but then Ally starts dragging you off the side of the bed as Cordelia comes around and heads straight into the bathroom. 

“We’re going to put you in the bath, love. Your fever is much too high,” Ally informs you, and you groan because they are making you move. They must have had a silent conversation over your head that you somehow missed, but considering how terrible you feel, it’s impressive you can keep up with anything right now.

You stumble as she guides you into the bathroom, then Cordelia is pulling your shirt over your head while Ally is helping you out of your pants. The sudden rush of speed makes you dizzy, but they both wrap arms around you and usher you into the bath.

“S’cold,” you whine, curling up against the side of tub. Your wives settle on the floor next to you, and Ally tugs your long hair up into a bun before bringing your head to rest on her shoulder.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry, but we have to get your fever down,” Ally consoles, stroking her fingers over your cheek to soothe you. You whimper as Cordelia drags a cool rag across your skin, reflexively jerking away, but the blonde’s hand follows your movements.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Cordelia echoes, and Ally kisses your forehead, but it doesn’t make anything feel any better, and the chilly water just worsens the pain in your limbs. Tears well in your eyes and stream down your cheeks, dripping onto Ally’s night shirt and soaking through to her pale skin. You don’t want to cry, but you just feel so wretched. 

Your sobs make it harder to breathe as mucus builds in your throat, and Ally pulls you away from her to meet your eyes, cradling both of your cheeks in her palms. “Shh, sweet girl, I know. I know you feel awful right now, but it’s okay. We just want to make you better. Try to breathe, baby.”

You shake your head, and Cordelia stops her ministrations, ringing out the washcloth and laying it on the side of the tub. She rakes her fingernails gently over your back, and without the torture of the cool cloth you don’t feel as overwhelmed. You start coughing, but the thickness in your throat causes you to choke, and you glimpse the momentary panic in Ally’s eyes when you make a noise like you might throw up.

“Easy, love. It’s alright. Look at me,” Cordelia directs, gentle but firm. Her hands replace Ally’s on your cheeks, and she brings your faces closer together. “Listen to me. You’re okay. I promise you, sweet love, everything is going to be alright. Ally and I are right here with you. Breathe for me, baby. In and out.”

“Hurts,” you force out weakly between your gasps for breath and the coughs that keep stealing it away. It is all just a continuous cycle of misery. Crying leads to coughing and choking, and then you start all over again.

“I know, darling,” Cordelia calmly assures you, letting go of your face with one hand to brush loose strands of hair away from your eyes. “But you’re okay. We’re right here.” Ally nods her head and grabs onto your hand, rubbing her thumb over its backside.

Delia doesn’t have to tell you that your outburst is increasing your pain, you already know. You sputter a few more times before you can get ahold of your emotions, and though tears still streak silently over your cheeks, it’s easier to breathe. Pain-filled mewling noises escape you as the three of you sit quietly for a few minutes, but their hands never cease tracing comforting pathways along your body, up your spine and down your arm, scratching gently behind your ear, or their thumb brushing over your lips. 

Finally, Cordelia grabs the thermometer, urging you to open and tuck it under your tongue. You rest your forehead on the rim of the bath, looking down at the water, and when the electronic device beeps, Cordelia reaches under you to remove it. “102.4,” she announces. “Let’s get you out of there, darling.”

Ally pulls the plug so the water will drain and helps you step out, supporting you with steady hands as Cordelia towels you off. The chilly air beats at your already aching body, and your teeth begin chattering when chill bumps blossom on your arms. The bath was cold, tortuous even, but the cool air combined with the wetness of your skin is its own kind of hell. Your blonde lover is quick to dress you in warm pajamas, and then she leads you back to bed.

They make you stay sitting up, so you lean against Ally, eyes drooping while Cordelia rushes downstairs for food you don’t want to eat. She returns with water and crackers, smiling at you as she holds out the first saltine, but you shake your head and hide your face in Ally’s neck.

But the ‘can’t see it so it isn’t there’ rule doesn’t exist with Cordelia, and she cups your chin to bring your eyes back around to her. “Sweet girl, I know you don’t want to, but we really need to get something in you. Just a few crackers, please? One or two, and a few sips of water so you don’t get dehydrated, then you can sleep.”

You still want to say no, but the worry in her eyes is bothersome, and you would do anything to make it go away. Taking the cracker, your first bite and swallow are hesitant, afraid of how your body will react. The snack feels heavy in your stomach, but you keep eating and drink some of the water, watching as the tension in Cordelia’s shoulders releases.

“Does it feel like it’s settling okay?” Ally asks timidly, and you bob your head as you finish off a second cracker then hand the cup back to Cordelia.

“No more,” you say, and Cordelia nods, repeating you.

“No more. Thank you, baby. You did really well.”

Cordelia places the food on the nightstand, and your wives finally allow you to lie down, but they want to check your temperature again before you can sleep. When the reading meets their approval, they snuggle into you, arms and legs tangling together in a big heap of love. You close your eyes, and just before you drift off you feel a kiss pressed to each side of your forehead and the words “I love you” whispered in your ear.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They wake you up early, Cordelia finding you clothes while Ally braids your hair so they can rush you off to urgent care. As soon as they let go of you, you fall back into the bed, curling up on your side with the intention of going back to sleep, but then Cordelia is there with toast, urging you to eat. You manage three bites before you push her away, but she’s satisfied, and just when you think you might get a moment of rest, they make you walk down to the car.

You don’t want to go, and you make sure to let them know. You are so run down with pain and fatigue that even going to the bathroom feels like hurdling a mountain. A trip to the doctor’s office is going to feel like a ten mile trek through the frozen wastelands of Antarctica. You are already so cold; you really, really don’t want to deal with Antarctica.

Your lovers’ wide, concerned eyes, and Cordelia’s whispered “baby, we can’t fix this” are what finally get you to give in, if that’s what you can even call it. You just want this miserable feeling to go away, so you allow this excursion without much of a fight.

You still whine as they drag you into the clinic, following Ally to a seat and leaving Cordelia to check you in. It feels like it’s only a matter of minutes before you are moving again, following a nurse to a room in the back where she takes your vitals. 

Ally sits on the exam table with you, and you lean against her, pulling your knees to your chest while you wait for the doctor. She hugs you to her side, stroking a hand through your hair, and you close your eyes.

You don’t know how much time passes, but suddenly there’s the sensation of falling and Cordelia yelps, then you slam into a hard chest while hands scrabble at your sides to tug you back onto a solid surface. You open your eyes to find the world tilted, but things straighten out as you are lifted back onto the exam table. 

“Sweetheart?” Cordelia asks, breathless, and Ally’s arms hold tighter around you. “What happened? Are you alright?”

And, oh gosh, if your little incident hasn’t made everything worse. Your sides burn where Ally’s hands scraped against them, and there’s a hard thumping in your head where it made contact with Cordelia’s collarbone. The blonde’s hands come up to palm your cheeks, checking your fever and soothing away the small, pained whimpers now slipping out of you. You open your mouth and stutter, uncertain. “I-I… umm.”

“You almost fell off the table,” Ally supplies. “Did you fall asleep?”

You nod, and some of the worry seems to abate from both of their eyes.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Oh, sweet girl, it’s alright. You just scared us. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Cordelia leans in to kiss your forehead, body relaxing, and Ally squeezes your shoulder. “Maybe you should lay down?”

You agree, but the doctor arrives before you get the opportunity, so you take up your former position against Ally. He introduces himself to all of you, and then his eyes focus on you when he asks what brought you in today.

Cordelia glances at you, and you wave your hand, telling her to go ahead. You don’t have the energy to talk to him, and even if you did, the blonde would interrupt you a million times to add something you skipped over or had forgotten. You only half listen, hearing things about fever, coughs, aches, and chills. You let one wife say all she wants while you cuddle into the other, exhausted. 

Ally still holds you as the man listens to your heart and lungs, but she has to get off the table when he asks you to lie down so he can press on your stomach. The physician checks your ears, throat, and eyes before backing away to enter his findings into your chart. 

Ally immediately moves to stand beside you, and you snuggle into her chest, her arms wrapping around you in a hug.

“She has the flu,” you hear the doctor explain to Cordelia. “Try to keep her hydrated- the more she drinks, the better. And I’ll give you a prescription for an antibiotic, then you can be on your way.”

Both Ally and Cordelia thank him, and then you are up, shuffling to the car for your final stretch across Antarctica. Ally drives, and you lay down across the backseat, resting your head in Cordelia’s lap as her fingers stroke across the side of your face. You fall asleep just as Ally gets out to pick up your prescription, but it feels like only a second before soft hands are urging you awake so you can go inside the house.

Cordelia changes the sheets while Ally helps you into fresh pajamas, then they force more crackers and water and medication upon you. Now that you have a concrete cause and cure for your symptoms, the fear and concern in your wives’ eyes has calmed considerably, but they still make you go through the routine of checking your temperature before they’ll allow you to sleep.

Finally free to close your eyes, you curl into Cordelia’s side, Ally’s gentle hands caressing your back. You’re pretty sure that these two women, with their big hearts and kind hands and gentle smiles, are the best kind of medicine you could ever have. You’re pretty sure they’ll cure you.


End file.
